


Gwilym Lee x Reader - Chi yw fy Ffrind Gorau

by gingersnaptaff



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Ben is a little shit, Ben just wants his money, F/M, Gwilym cannot spit it out, Joe is a sassy bastard, bets abound, lucy is the team mum and you can't tell me otherwise, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnaptaff/pseuds/gingersnaptaff
Summary: You and Gwilym have been best friends for ages but can’t admit that your feelings run much deeper than that. At the BoRhap premiere the other lads have an idea to get you two together. Lucy, rather exasperatedly, tries to be the voice of reason throughout.





	Gwilym Lee x Reader - Chi yw fy Ffrind Gorau

' _I_   _shouldn’t be here, I should be at home eating some shit take-away and watching Take Me Out on demand, not drinking champagne that probably costs more than I make in a year.’_  You feel so overdressed and your thoughts are flying around your head in a tumult of nerves.

Damn Gwilym for making such a persuasive argument about you coming with him to the premiere. He evidently had forgotten to mention the thousands of people that would see you, the constant flashes of the cameras, and the blinding shame you would feel because everyone in the premiere is so bloody beautiful that they put the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood’s paintings to shame. 

Gwilym is over by the bar, looking utterly delectable in that deep blue suit and you have to take a moment to compose yourself, to remember how to fucking breathe, because, holy shit, he looks like Prince Charming. He’s leant back on the dark wood panelling, listening intently to something that Joe is saying, a small smile on his face. His eyes are crinkled in mirth and he’s swaying slightly. His hair is tousled and your mouth goes dry as he catches your eye and fucking winks at you, waving a hand over as if to say ‘Come here!’ 

Joe is there with him, maroon suit looking like it was tailored for him, the fit is that perfect. (You’re fairly sure that he, Rami, and Joe jokingly dressed up in the colours of the British flag on purpose, you’d seen the wattsapps.) They’re drinking whisky, dark amber and expensive. They look gorgeous. Everyone does, actually. You’re acutely aware of your own unimportance here. The people in this room are all stunningly beautiful, dressed in all their finery and here you are, standing in the shadows, in a dress that you bought in a sale last week. The champagne is sweet on your tongue, and the canapés are unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. Everything is a haze of glamour and you have to look around twice just to make sure that you’re not dreaming.

You can only obey Gwilym’s command and you nod, winding your way through tables, through conversations, through sparkling jewels, journalists, and down on their luck actors to the bar, standing next to Joe. You’re still a little nervous, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the chain of your necklace in worry, the lovespoon charm that adorns it tinkles a tinny melody. 

A thousand eyes are upon you it seems and your thoughts kick into overdrive once again.

‘ _No, I don’t belong here. Christ, I had a conversation with Brian May about hedgehogs and all I could say instead of ‘It was lovely to meet you’ was ‘Hey, did you see the Flash advert with the singing dog, wasn’t that great?” Like, God why didn’t he get security to throw me out then and there. At least I would be in bed by now, not here trying to make sure I don’t make a bigger fool of myself than I already have._ ’

Joe gives you a small smile and a “Hey!” in greeting before speaking to Gwilym again, “I’m gonna go sit with Ben for a bit, will you be okay?”

“Fine, fine, don’t worry about me.” Gwilym soothes, “I’m not that bad compared to Hardy.”

Joe nods, “Alright, but if anything happens I’m not dragging your ass back to the hotel.”

Gwilym laughs, “No, Joe, you’ll have Ben to take care of.”

“No, I’ll be getting my own drunk ass back there and sleeping.” Joe snipes, turning on his heel and walking away, glass of whisky in hand.

Gwilym heaves a sigh and smiles at you, laying a hand on your arm. You can feel the heat of his skin through the thin, green lace of your sleeves and you shiver. He’s turned towards you, propped against the bar. You can see his face more clearly now that he isn’t drowned in shadow and his eyes are piercing in question.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, if a little slurred, and you nod.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just a little out of my depth that’s all.” You chuckle nervously and run a hand through your hair, desperately trying to arrange the tendrils of hair that threaten to fall from your bun.

“Lemme help,” he murmurs, breath hot on your ear, bending down to smooth a tendril away from your face. “Are you alright other than your bun nearly falling down, Cariad?”

You give him a tight smile, twiddling the glass in your hands, “Yeah, I guess, just trying not to make a fool out of myself, that’s all.”

“Look, we don’t have to stay if you’re not happy, you know. We can go home and – and order some take out and –“

You cut him off, voice stern, eyes flinty with disagreement, draining your drink. “No, Gwil. Tonight isn’t about me. I’m not going to leave. This is about you, this about the fact that you acted your arse off for more than six months and I’m not to let you go home because your fuck up of a friend got so het up about meeting famous people. It’s just – well - I work in a fucking supermarket; I’m not as interesting as everyone else.”

“You’re my friend, that’s special enough, Cariad. There’s no else I’d rather have come with me than you.”

You chuckle, “Ever the charmer, aren’t you?” you say, slapping him on the shoulder softly.

He smirks, draining the last few dregs of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing prominently, and if you were anywhere else you’re sure that you’d kiss him senseless because of that.

“Of course I am. You’ve known that for ages.” His voice is light and you giggle, placing your glass on the bar counter, shaking your head in mirth.

“Ahhh, here I was thinking that you were terrible with girls when we were in school together.”

“Most girls,” he concedes, placing his empty glass on the bar, and nodding his head sagely.

You’re both silent for a few moments, not daring to meet each other’s eyes. You’re fairly sure that you’re blushing, cheeks hot and pink and Gwilym has to clear his throat to stop himself from saying something stupid.

“Would you like a drink?” he enquires, just as you blurt out “I got so anxious being here that I asked Brian if he’d seen the Flash commercial with the dog in it and he looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.”

Gwilym howls with laughter, his body shaking and you swear that he looks like he might keel over he’s laughing so hard. He has to put a hand on the bar to steady himself, his breathing coming in loud gasps. There are tears in his eyes and he cannot speak for a few moments.

“Are you telling me that you asked Brian May,  _the_  Brian May, whether or not he’d seen a Flash advert?” Gwilym is incredulous, his face is scrunched up in some kind of mixture of fascination and disbelief and you swear that you’ve never wanted to hit your best friend so badly until now.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to make a fool of myself, was I?” You cry back, defensively. “I didn’t plan that to be the last thing out of my mouth before he walked off.”

“Oh my fucking God.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and you shoot him a glare of absolute contempt.“Don’t you fucking dare say that I’m an idiot, Lee. My brain’s already telling me that so I don’t need you to as well.”

“Alright, alright,” Gwilym soothes, raising his hands placatingly, “Now, to get the conversation back on track, would you like a drink? You seem like you need something stronger than champagne and, to be honest, after that story so do I.”

You nod in agreement, “Whisky would be lovely.” 

* * *

Ben is crouched down in his chair, looking better than he has any right to be, watching yours and Gwilym’s interactions with interest, Joe is studiously taking notes, observing with a keen eye, and, Lucy is quite sure of this, Rami has binoculars out.

“Do I want to know?” is the first thing out of her mouth as she flops down onto a seat in a flash of pink silk and sequins, rubbing soothingly at her feet. ‘ _Fuck heels_.’

“Crouch down or you’ll blow our cover,” Ben hisses, glaring at her sternly. His blue eyes are narrowed and suit is rumpled. He, in her opinion, looks far worse than she feels.

Lucy does so, cuckooing down further, blowing a piece of hair out of her eyes. “What the  _hell_  are you looking at?”

“Gwilym,” Rami says his voice a whisper. It is said as though it is a simple explanation to a simple problem and Lucy feels the overwhelming urge to slap her boyfriend for being so stupid. She wants to slap all of them actually, but that might just be the alcohol.

“Yes, we all know that he looks lovely,” she snaps, a little tartly, “ _Why_  are you looking at him though?”

“Can you see the sexual tension?” Joe asks looking up from his notebook, framing it as though he is speaking to Ben, “I can see the sexual tension.”

Ben nods in agreement and Lucy furrows her brow in confusion. “Between him and his drink?”

“Between him and his Cariad – am I pronouncing that right? (he enquires to Ben who shrugs dismissively) – I don’t know her name, he’s too infatuated to tell me, and even if he did, he’d probably spend twenty minutes staring at her anyway. He did when he watched the movie.”

“Infatuated or intoxicated,” Lucy asks, ignoring the fact that Joe seems more than a little jealous.

“Both. Either. Who cares? He’s drunk and he’s  _this_  fucking close to her, any closer and they’d be in a cupboard snogging.” Ben huffs, slumping further down in his seat, “Give me them,” he huffs, gesturing to the binoculars that Rami is holding.

‘ _Any further and he’ll be lying in that chair._ ’ Lucy thinks, turning to Rami, the scowl on her boyfriend’s face apparent.

He rolls his eyes at the blonde man’s impatience, “Say please, Benjamin.” He teases.

“Oh my God,” Lucy says, nearing her wits end with the three men’s antics, holding out her hand, the way a mother would if a child had taken cookies before dinner, “No, give me them, you fucking weirdos.” Rami does as he is bid, a crushed look on his face, “And the notepad, Joseph.”

Joe scowls at her, rankled but does so. His hands have ink on them and Lucy can see that the notepad is worn slightly.

“£10 says that he tells her how he feels by the end of the night.” Ben announces, oblivious or uncaring to Lucy’s demands.

“That’s cocky, isn’t it? I’d have said twenty at best, Benjamin.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re on!”

Lucy is steadily losing the will to live and it’s only eleven at night. 

* * *

Gwilym is silent, staring into space. You two have a table to yourselves, one further back from where the other boys are sitting and half dissolved in shadows. The purple lights cast a hazy shadow on him and he sighs. You’ve gone outside for some air, and his thoughts are a haze of alcohol and lust.

‘ _Iesu Mawr, it should not be this hard to tell a woman that you love her, even if she is your best friend_.’

His empty glass is on the table and someone presses a full drink into his hand, all effusive praise and hollow smiles, before moving onto the rest of the lads. Gwilym does not turn his head to see what is happening. He does not want to. A lady in a deep red, satin dress swishes by the table, a smug cloud of saccharine violet perfume and lashes of hairspray, thin lips a dark ruby red and she makes a beeline for Rami, eyes glittering like dark jewels. 

Gwilym’s mouth is dry, his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth and the room is spinning incessantly. ‘ _Eurgh, I feel sick_ ,’ is all he can think, not daring to look around the room for fear that he attracts unwanted attention.

Ben sidles up to him, his face enhanced by the shadows that half the room is buried in and his cheek bones pop, they look so sharp that Gwilym swears you could cut steel with them. 

“You’re coming with me, tree boy.” He orders, and Gwilym is in no position to argue.

Ben grabs his arm and tugs him upwards, nearly upsetting the table in the process. Gwilym knows that it’s a stupid thought but he can’t help but think that they look like a father that is dragging away a son that desperately wants an ice cream, if the son was a particularly tall six foot two man and the father a handsome man of twenty-four, but he keeps that to himself.

Gwilym does not see Lucy’s grimace or the whispered ‘sorry’ on her lips. He sees only purple lights reflecting on the glass of the doorway, teak doors being opened, and then he’s pushed into – eurgh, it smells like bleach and he crinkles his nose in disgust – a tiny room and the door is locked behind him.Your voice is the first thing he hears, a high pitched, “Gwil?” that is filled with worry and he makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. “Oh, thank Christ.” 

He can hear the faint rasp of silk and lace as you sit up, the click of your legs as you move into a more comfortable position, and he fumbles for a moment, grasping about for his phone.

“Are you alright?” he enquires, once he’s switched the torch on.Your face is pale with worry, the champagne silk of your dress rumpled, glittering like a thousand stars. Your bun has come undone, you’re shaking from the cold, and you’re cradling your arms to your chest. ‘ _Absolutely beautiful_ ,’ is all he can think.

You squint at the bright glare of the torch and face away from him for a moment, closing your eyes in an attempt to get used to the light. You nod, “Yes, I’m fine, just shocked. Joe and Rami dragged me in here when I was coming back from getting air. What the  _fuck_  are they playing at? They called me  _Cariad_. I – I can’t – Why the hell would they do that Gwil?”

“Oh, fuck me.” He whispers, his eyes wide. ‘ _What fucking idiots. Goddamn them.’_

He wants to curse their names, wants to kick his shoes into the wall and roar to the three troublemakers that he wants, no,  _demands_  to be let out of this poxy little cupboard, where his shoes are nearly touching your legs, but he doesn’t. He’s strangely calm, the white hot anger that he should be, by all rights, experiencing has been replaced by adrenaline. His palms are hot, there’s sweat dripping down his forehead, and he laughs for a moment, sinking down beside you and handing you his jacket.

“Don’t want you getting colder than you already are,” he says. His voice is tender and his eyes are soft.

“Thank you,” you whisper back, throwing the coat around your shoulders, pressing yourself against his body as he wraps his arm around you and draws you to him. 

* * *

“Are they ever gonna… you know, confess?” Joe asks. His head is tilted in askance at the other two men opposite him and, unlike them, he is still standing, one hand on the doorknob and the other scratching his neck in worry.

“I hope so. I’ve got twenty quid riding on this, lads.” Ben gripes, glaring at Rami, holding the store cupboard key in his hand. The floor is cold and Ben shivers involuntarily. ‘ _Really not the best place to be, here.’_

_  
_“It’s a better bet, that way. More money in it,” Rami teases from where he’s sitting, cross-legged on the floor.

“More money for you, maybe. Ten pounds is a perfectly acceptable bet to anyone else.” Ben huffs, his impatience rising.

“Anyone who’s British, certainly.” Rami says, a hint of acid in his voice and Ben grits his teeth together, desperately trying not to say something that he knows he’ll regret.

“Do you think we should let them out?” Lucy’s voice is small and the boys turn to look at where she’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and a scowl on her face.

Ben raises an eyebrow and Rami makes a face like he’s been slapped.

“No,” Joe mutters, “Keep them in there. I want them to say something so I don’t have to watch them make puppy eyes at each other.”

Lucy rolls her eyes and nods stiffly, heading back into the bar, the door swinging closed behind her.

“I wish they’d hurry up.” Ben says, “I really need a drink.”

The other two men give a murmur of ascent turn their attention back to the closet. 

* * *

“So…” Gwilym says, “This is an experience I didn’t think I’d be having tonight.”

You give him a smile and ignore the air of awkwardness that surrounds him. He cannot look you in the eye and you swear that his cheeks are red. He is scratching the back of his neck and unconsciously drawing you even closer to him.

“I - yeah. It’s not something I wanted either. I kinda wish we had gone now.” You say, laughing. It’s a nervous laugh, abrupt and loud and you feel the shame coursing through you. Your hands instinctively go to the chain of your lovespoon necklace twisting it in your fingers anxiously.

Gwilym nods his head in agreement, “We could be watching cookery programmes.”

“Ooh yes.” You say, brightening a little, “We could’ve ordered Chinese.”

“What is it with you and Chinese?” Gwilym’s tone is one of exasperated affection.

“I like the fortune cookies, bite me Welsh boy.”

“Sometimes you’re so incorrigible that I wonder if I’ve made friends with the devil herself. You’re not real.” Gwilym mutters, rubbing at his temples.

You snort, “Charming. Utterly charming. It’s not my fault we’re trapped in this cupboard.”

“Is this what this is about? The cupboard? The fact that we’re both here against our will? I didn’t exactly agree to this myself.” Gwilym’s looking directly at you now, his eyes narrowed.

Your voices are hushed whispers and you can hear the three lads voices from outside, their questions of “Oh my god, what are they doing?” and a particularly pained “What the  _fuck_  have we done?” from Joe.

“Hey, don’t you dare say that!” Ben yells. “We locked you in there so you could kiss the fuck out of each other not bully the fuck out of each other! I’ve got £20 riding on this, Lee. Now fucking pucker up, you arsehole.”

“Screw you, Hardy! I should’ve asked the producers if we could’ve locked you in the cupboard for longer. It might’ve helped your brain a little more.” Gwilym yells back and you tap him on the shoulder to turn him back to you. You’re still running the chain of the necklace through your fingers, twisting the little silver lovespoon so that the blue stone catches the light.

“Gwil…” you trail off, suddenly aware that it’s gone quiet outside. “Bang on the door. Tell them to fuck off. I don’t want to say what I’m going to say with those three listening in.”

“See I told you!” Ben yells in triumph. “I want my money! Lucy, tell them!”

“Ben, get back in the bar, for God’s sake. Give them  _some_  form of privacy.” Lucy’s voice is sharp and you can almost hear the slumping of shoulders in Ben’s muttered “Alright.”

“I remember when I got you that necklace.” Gwilym’s voice is soft, and the chain tinkles as you drop it in shock.

“Y-you do?” It’s a silly question, you know that, but you can’t help it.

Gwilym nods. “I asked mam if she would help me pick it out.”

You look at him in quiet shock, brushing a hair out of your face. You’re still shivering a little even with his citrus smelling jacket over your shoulders, the warmth of his hand on your shoulder and you raise an eyebrow slightly as if to say ‘go on.’

“We went to the jewellery shop when we went to visit nain and taid. Rhiannon went with us too but she went off to go and watch a movie. It was just there in the window and I thought you would like it for your birthday.”

You nod, “I remember being impressed that you’d managed to wrap it so neatly.”

“That was mam. I’m terrible at wrapping presents, you should know this.”

“I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, idiot. I know you’re terrible now. Paper all over the floor and everything.”

“Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I kinda knew then that I liked you. Really liked you. I’m not good at this declaration of love shit.”

“Ahh. You should’ve brought a boom box and _'Careless Whisper'_ with you then. Would’ve gone down a storm.”

“I’m far more partial to _'Wham! Rap'_ but I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Cariad.”

“I - If it makes you feel better then I knew I loved you when I first met you. Not true love at first sight because you were an absolute dickhead most of the time but you - you were my dickhead.”

“I’m touched.” Gwilym says, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

You slap his shoulder. “I’m trying to be romantic, you dick! See what I mean?”

Gwilym chuckles. “Try a little bit harder. That was terrible.”

“Oh my god, look, come here then.”You say, before leaning in to kiss him.

“What are y-”

You touch your lips to his and he moans, cradling your face with his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. It’s a sweet kiss, more of a peck really. You can taste the whisky on his tongue, feel the heat of his skin beneath your finger tips and you’re pretty sure that he’s smiling against your lips. Your whole body is tingling in delight, like you’ve just received a static shock, and you can feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, the long lingering swipe of his tongue on your own.You pull away from him and give him a smile, running a hand through your hair and coughing a little.

“I’ve loved you for ages. I just couldn’t say it until now.” You whisper.

Gwilym nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed.“Can I show you…” He trails off, uncertainty heavy in his voice.

“What I’ve been missing? Of course,” your voice is small, you’re on the verge of tears and you laugh, the emotions overwhelming you for a brief moment. “Of  _course_.”

Gwilym’sgrin is infectious. It lights up his whole face and it makes you feel warm inside. It’s a grin of someone who has finally been allowed to say the secret they’ve wanted to after so long and it makes your heart burst. He draws you into another kiss, this one rougher than the first, all teeth and tongue, and insistence. They’re bruising kisses, the kind that make your lips sore and red and your heart race. Gwilym’s hands are tangled in your hair, tugging at your dress, flinging his jacket off of your shoulders.

“I love you.” He whispers as you break apart, breathing heavily.

“I love you too.” You whisper, dazed.

‘ _This is really happening. I’m in a cupboard about to fuck my best friend after he admitted he’s in love with me. This is like something out of a Rom Com.’_

_  
_You raise yourself up to your full height, standing up and brushing yourself off a little. Gwilym follows suit and you both laugh, still a little nervous.

“Are we really gonna fuck in this piddly little thing?” You say, amusement heavy in your voice.

Gwilym smirks. “I mean we could call a taxi and do it at home. But we might raise eyebrows at this point. People’s wonder why we’re leaving.”

“Be serious. You just want to fuck in the cupboard, don’t you?”Gwilym shakes his head.

“It’s okay. If this is a kink of yours I won’t judge.”

“D- did you just  _kink-shame_  me. _”_ Gwilym’s eyes are wide and his face is that of shock.

“Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Fuck you senseless against a wall.” He huffs, voice low. It’s dripping in dominance, in the smoothness of sex and you blush hotly, feeling the beginnings of wetness in your panties. “I’ll make you scream for me and everyone’ll hear you.”

“Jesus.” His admission has thrown you, you must admit. “I - wow. Fucking come on then, I’m getting impatient.”

“As you wish.” Gwilym’s eyes are almost black and you gasp as he lifts you up, pressing your back against the wall, tugging down your panties insistently with his left hand before undoing his trousers, the material pooling on the floor. His right hand is on your back, holding you close to him and you can feel his breath on your cheek. You can feel the bulge of his cock on your thigh, the pulsing heat of your arousal in your abdomen and gasp as Gwilym shifts you onto his cock. It hurts for a moment, his member stretching your walls a little painfully. You’re not exactly slick yet, Gwilym’s impatience for you overriding the need to prepare you, and you have to suck in a scream either of surprise or pain you’re not sure. Your hands dig into his back hard enough to bruise and Gwilym hisses in pain, thrusting hard into your cunt in reaction to that.

Gwilym soothes your discomfort with kisses and whispered words of love before you rock against him, sniffling into his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head.

 If he can feel the material of his shirt becoming damp he does not care. His is intent on thrusting into you, demanding thrusts that make you gasp with each brush against your cervix. You can feel your cunt quiver, walls tightening around his member and you have to muffle your moans into his shirt, biting into the material. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure as his thrusts even out, still maintaining their hard rhythm. Your legs are shaking, you can feel your thighs quivering around his waist and Gwilym smirks.

 “God, I love you,” he whispers, thrusting idly into the warmth of your cunt. 

You mewl, the sensations too much for you. Every thrust, every little movement is enough to make you see stars. Your cunt is clenching around his member and you’re moaning, a sultry gasp issuing from your lips, and you can see Gwilym’s composure being broken down again. The noises you’re making are driving him mad. “I – I love you too,” you whisper, groaning in delight. “Please go faster, Gwil. I need you.” Your hands make their way from his back to the top of his head, pulling his hair making him hiss at the pain.

  
“Oh honey, you’re so good.” He whispers, lost in pleasure, barely heeding your words, “So tight.” 

“Make me come, please make me come. I’ve wanted this for ages.” 

Sweat is dripping down your temples, your dress is sticking to your thighs and your juices are dripping down your thighs, wetting the lace of your panties. You’ve got tunnel vision, your mind and being is filled with Gwilym and only him and he groans, hisses through his teeth as he speeds up his thrusts unconsciously. 

“Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make your little cunt squeeze around my cock and make you see stars.” 

“Yes. Oh my God please!” You’re crying now, the rasp of his voice sending you into even more of a frenzy. The exquisite drag of his cock against your cunt is making you shake and you know your orgasm is impending. Your back is scraping against the cold wall, knocking over some cleaning supplies with a bang and you’re too far gone to care at this moment in time. Your toes are curling in your shoes, the hot ache in your abdomen is pulsing manically, your body tensing like a taut bowstring. Gwilym is lost in the sensations, the warmth of your cunt and your body finally being close to his and you know he will not last much longer. 

“Come for me, Baby, please come for me. Make me feel good. Please Gwil, I need this. Want you, want you, want you.” Your voice is slurred with pleasure and Gwilym nods, sweat dripping from his brow, suit rumpled. 

“Fuck, you want this? You want my come?” He growls the last word, punctuates it with a thrust that makes your vision white and you scream, orgasm finally hitting you.Your body is vibrating with pleasure, your cunt is clenching around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth and you have to muffle your screams by biting into the silk of his suit, the smell of citrus enveloping you. Your eyes flutter shut, the dark a welcome respite for a moment. Gwilym is breathing heavily, you feel him shift and you moan out at the loss of his cock, the loss of feeling filled. He helps you to stand, his arms around your waist, the warmth of his skin a blessing against the buzz of electric that is still coursing through your veins. 

“You okay?” he whispers. His hair is in complete disarray, but his eyes are blissed out. 

You nod, breathing heavily. Your dress is soaked with sweat and your legs are like jelly. “I – I…  _wow_.” 

“Wow indeed!” you hear someone yell through the other side of the door. 

“Ben, will you fuck off? We’re trying to be cute here.” Gwilym yells his voice husky. He bends down to pick his jacket up off the floor, dusting it off and holding it in his arm.

 “Oops, sorry! They owe me so much money.” You can hear the shit-eating grin in Ben’s voice and you giggle, the tiredness suddenly overwhelming you. His footsteps recede and you hear the muffled bang of the door once more.

 “You know…” Gwilym begins, placing his jacket about your shoulders once more, “We could always go home. Go for a second round. We’ve had enough fun here, I think.” 

You nod, “Yeah, please. Can we order-” 

“Chinese? Of course, and if the fortune cookie says anything about cupboards then we’ll throw it in the bin.” 

You snort, “Sounds like a good plan.”

Gwilym opens the cupboard door, takes your hand and you leave together, slipping out unnoticed by anyone. 


End file.
